


A Little Bit of Life, A Little Bit at a Time

by sweatersandlibraries



Category: Red Queen Series - Victoria Aveyard
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, M/M, Maven Calore deserved better, Maven Calore deserved love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:40:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26594596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweatersandlibraries/pseuds/sweatersandlibraries
Summary: Maven survives against Mare in War Storm and runs away to find help for his injuries. He comes across a house and his future awaits him there.
Relationships: Maven Calore/Original Character(s), Maven Calore/Other(s), Maven Calore/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	A Little Bit of Life, A Little Bit at a Time

**Author's Note:**

> Under all the layers of manipulation and hate was a boy who just wanted to be showed that he could be loved. For all that he is, and for all that he could be. 
> 
> Based on: "She wasn't enough for me either. Enough to make me change, to pull me back from what I've become. I wonder if Thomas would have been enough."

I wake up to the sound of soft breathing, a hand around my waist and legs tangled up with mine. I turn around and catch what still happens to be the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen, Maven Calore sleeping, with a hint of a smile on his lips. My heart warms at the sight of his face and my hand twitches at my side to run it through his deep black hair. I give in to the urge, then slowly kiss his forehead followed by his cheek. I realise I could be like this forever, looking at the boy I’ve come to love so deeply, sleeping peacefully by my side.

I think back to the day he first stumbled across my doorstep, his face deathly pale, a knife sticking out of him and silver blood dripping all around my front door. On instinct, I was about to run to his side and let him in when he gestured at me to stop. Blue eyes looked into mine, and slowly he laid out all the details of his life before me, every breath of his hurting him ten folds more than the one before but he couldn’t stop. I remember wondering how long he’d kept all of this to himself, if he ever had a friend. When he was through, he looked up to see my face, still calm, without a hint of judgement, and said, “I’m a monster and I know I deserve to die, and I want you to think this through before you let me in.” Again, my healer instinct kicked in and I helped him in, laid him down on my table and did what I do best: heal. He had lost his consciousness soon after and I continued to work on him slowly, healing his wounds, restoring his blood loss bit by bit, trying to bring him back to life. Sometimes at night, I’d wondered if that would ever be possible with the kind of darkness living inside of him.

When he had first woken up, his eyes were cold and he'd put on the mask of an indifferent boy who didn’t care enough about me. I saw right through it and found a boy who was scared that I’d hand him over to his brother, a boy who didn’t want to trust me because nothing good was ever given to him without being snatched away again. He figured that I’d looked right through him and let his mask drop like he’d been waiting for this kind of comfort all his life. His shoulders dropped, and for a second I thought he might fall, like the weight of his head was too heavy to carry for those weakened shoulders but he found his balance, and in that moment something about him made my heart break enough for me to look away. Softly, I told him that he could stay for as long as he wishes. I showed him around the house, giving him little details of every room. He lingered in my library and then his eyes wandered to the piano, hands twitching at his sides, as if looking for a piece of himself he could only vaguely remember. We sat on the couch of the library and I told him about myself, giving him enough time to trust me. Sometimes he’d get lost in himself and I'd pause long enough for him to find his way back to me.

Months passed and gradually colour returned to his body. I’d let him help me out in my backyard, introducing him to different kinds of herbs and birds. He started eating better, read novels without worrying about time. Sometimes I’d sit right next to him and read my own, and sometimes he’d tell me about the plays he loved to watch as a child to escape his mother and how much he misses them. Other nights, he'd whisper that he could still hear his mother and it took all my will to not scoot closer to him and just put my arms around him. I’d just sit next to him and breathe, letting him know that he’s not alone, not anymore. Eventually, our orbits clashed and became one.

One night, I heard something crash in his room. I walked into his room to see a broken cup on the floor and Maven, standing in the middle of the room, with his eyes squeezed shut so tightly that if given an option, he’d never open them again.

I'd held him by his shoulders and said softly, with equal parts command and concern in my voice, “Maven, look at me.”

“No,” his voice cracked, “I don’t want to.”

Slowly, I put my arms around his waist, pulled him closer and hugged him. That’s when the first sob tore out of him, slowly giving way to others and he let go of the control he’d held onto for so long. I held him for a while, feeling his thundering heart match the beat of my own. He continued sobbing softly and I could feel my own vision blur with tears too. He might’ve been a monster for the world, but for me, he would always be a boy who just wanted to be loved.

Now when he opens his eyes and catches me staring at him, he clears his throat making me blush furiously and bite my lip. I look into his eyes and they are soft, unguarded, and my breath catches. I lean forward and brush my lips against his while he takes me in for a kiss and I wonder how the world missed out on this gem of a person who was only some love away from setting free the boy he’d kept trapped inside for so long.

“There was a smile on your face while you were sleeping,” I say, with a smile of my own, familiar warmth creeping in when the back of his fingers brush against my cheek. I lean into his touch and my eyes shut on their own accord. But my eyes fly open when he says what he says next.

“I started dreaming again,” he pauses, “and I dreamed of you.”


End file.
